Right Years later.

Some girls are born to be daughters. She was born to be a weapon. Raised by the devil in an Armani suit, trained to kill with a smile, and taught that love was weakness.

She was willing to do anything to leave this world but what would it take?

The stench of old gasoline, metal, and blood hung heavy in the warehouse air. Shadows loomed like silent witnesses to everything she had done. Aria Romano stepped over a twitching body, heels clicking on concrete, her white blouse soaked in sweat, grime, and a splatter of crimson.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe wrong. Her heart didn’t race, and her hands were steady as they always were, wrapped tightly around the matte-black pistol still warm from the last shot.

The man she had shot gurgled something unintelligible. She turned back for a moment, face expressionless, then placed one more bullet between his eyes.

Clean. Precise.

That was what her father required.

Aria holstered the gun and exhaled slowly, only then allowing herself to feel the pain in her ribs from the scuffle. The man had tried to steal from them. Worse, he'd tried to run. She had caught him two blocks from the docks. Now he was meat for the rats.

She turned toward the sound of slow clapping echoing across the warehouse.

Don Riccardo Romano, her father, stepped into the light. Impeccably dressed as always, his salt-and-pepper like hair slicked back, his eyes sharp and unreadable beneath gold-framed glasses.

He didn’t look at the body. He looked at her.

"You’re still my favorite weapon," he said without warmth.

Aria didn’t answer. She never did when he used that word. “Weapon.”

He waved a hand, and two men emerged from the shadows to drag the body away. She could already hear the splash of bleach and steel drums being rolled out. The cleanup crew was well-trained.

Riccardo stepped closer and handed her a sealed envelope.

"New assignment," he said. "Effective immediately."

Aria tore it open without hesitation. Inside was a new identity card, a passport, a boarding pass, and a photo of a man she didn’t recognize.

She raised an eyebrow. "Football? Really?" She frowned. Was this some sort of child's play?

"PR manager for our new front. Legitimate money. New city. New you." Riccardo smiled.

Her lips curled slightly. "And the catch?"

He smiled coldly. "One of the players is leaking our operations to Interpol. Possibly more than one. You’ll find out who. Remove the threat, leave no trace, and you my darling would come back to daddy."

Aria folded the documents and tucked them inside her jacket. She felt the tension in her chest tighten. He hadn’t sent her on a mission alone in over a year. Not since that night in Sicily. Not since she had started asking questions he didn’t like.

"Why me?" She asked, before she could stop herself.

Riccardo looked at her for a long time before responding.

"Because I need you to remember what you are, Aria. Not a daughter. Not a lover. Not a woman. You are the blood in our name. The silence between a scream and a shot. I made you. I made you one to be feared. Baby, don’t disappoint me."

“Leave the compound today and you're no longer my daughter but just some normal PR. I mean you always wanted the normal right?”

His words cut like razors, but she didn't let them show. No, she didn't want to be normal. How could she? She just wanted her father to act like normal fathers. She nodded once and turned away. He always did that… Even though she was his daughter he couldn't care less.

That night, she stood at the edge of the family compound in a silk dress and leather boots, her suitcase at her feet and a new identity pressed to her chest like a second skin.

The moonlight caught on the dried blood under her nails. She didn’t wash it off.

“Today Aria Romano is dead and Ms. Aria D'Angelo, Public Relations Manager of Lazio FC, is going to take her place. No doubt someone on that team was going to die for this.” She smirked.

“Ma'am your ride is ready.” One of her father's guards bowed and said.

The jet hummed beneath her feet, it was steady and low. Her fingers tapped the armrest, nerves coiled under her skin. The cabin was dim, and cold. Just like the world she was about to enter.

Her cover was airtight: public relations manager with a background in image rehab and crisis management, hired by Lazio FC to improve their branding after a gambling scandal. But beneath the papers and perfectly curated digital trail was her father’s mission.

Lazio FC wasn’t just a football team. It was a financial shell holding laundered money, trade routes, and confidential records. Someone from inside had leaked their logistics data to Interpol. Three shipments had been seized. A warehouse had been burned.

That was all it took for the Don to declare war. And Aria? She was the first missile.

As the plane landed into Rome, Aria inhaled slowly. She had never been to this part of Italy before. It felt like entering a new skin. One that didn’t quite fit yet but she would make it fit. She always did.

She disembarked with practiced grace. A black car waited at the curb, it was sleek and silent. Inside sat a driver she didn’t recognize. He said nothing, and neither did she.

The city blurred past her window. Old buildings, graffiti-tagged walls, and narrow alleys. She memorized every corner. If things went wrong, she'd need exit routes.

Her temporary apartment was above a bakery. A small, two-bedroom flat with paper-thin walls and a locked drawer under the bathroom sink that held a silenced gun and burner phone. She unpacked quickly, set up her laptop, connected to the team's private intranet, and began her audit and by midnight, she had names.

Seven team members with access to classified files. Three non-players: a doctor, an assistant coach, and a newly hired physiotherapist, Luca Moretti.

She froze, her stomach dropped.

Not because of the name but because of the face.

He was older now. Rougher. But it was him. The boy she had watched kill her uncle eight years ago. The one her father had called a traitor and marked for death.

What the hell was he doing here?

Her mission just became personal.

Aria shut her laptop. Then reopened it, pulled up every file she could find on him. Background checks. Certifications. Employment history. All clean. Too clean.

Her heartbeat ticked louder in her ears.

She stood and walked to the window. At that point either he was her target… or he was about to become her biggest mistake.

She never prayed to any God. She never felt like they deserve it, but today she hoped there was because she was going to watch them cry.